Oh Hunter My Hunter

The wolf loomed over him, its razor-sharp teeth bared in a snarl. Its claws dug into his chest, making him wince as its piercing blue eyes locked onto his own, brimming with a predatory hunger. Its fur was far from soft; it was coarse and thick, like thorns ready to ensnare him.

"G-Good boy," Amias stammered, hoping just maybe this was a friendly wolf. It was in fact not.

The beast lifted a claw, ready to strike, and in desperation, Amias punched it in the snout. The wolf recoiled, startled just long enough for him to scramble backward, regaining his footing. Now standing, he faced the wolf as they locked eyes, a tense standoff forming between them. Then, in the blink of an eye, the wolf was gone.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! Wh-Where'd you go?" Amias shouted, his breath ragged, his body tensing as he scanned his surroundings. He was unarmed. The fact that he had escaped the first attack was pure luck, and now his hand ached terribly from the punch. Why the hell was it so bony? Maybe it was young, maybe it had underestimated him but wolves weren't supposed to be that big, right? Weren't they the size of dogs? And where the hell had it vanished to? Could it turn invisible? That was completely unfair.

Tobi, where are you? Amias thought desperately. He hadn't even taken the Ambrosia yet. He wasn't superhuman. His wounds weren't bleeding yet, but he had no doubt that if he didn't do something fast, this wolf would tear him apart. He had to figure out a way to win fast. Maybe he could force it down the staircase, but how? And worse… didn't wolves hunt in packs?

A deep, guttural growl echoed from the darkness.

Fuck.

He was screwed. He had no way out, no weapons, no plan. His brain worked overtime, frantically analyzing every possible option, and then he saw it. His saviour.

A long stick with a metal tip. A spear.

He lunged for it, rolling as he grabbed hold, somehow managing a somersault that amazed even himself. Adrenaline truly was a wonderful thing. Either that or he was already dead and this was a hallucination, but he'd go with the former.

Gritting his teeth, he turned. Just one wolf. He could handle one, right? The two stood in another tense standoff. Amias had never wielded a spear before, but it didn't matter; he had to win. If the wolf bit him, if it drew blood, it was over. He needed one clean strike, one fatal blow. The wolf disappeared again.

He didn't breathe. He would rely on instinct alone. One sound. One movement. That's all he needed.

1… 2… 3…

Strike!

He struck as fast as he could but missed. The wolf dodged.

I'm dead.

The thought flashed through his mind as the wolf lunged straight for his throat. But before it could clamp down, his body moved on its own; his leg swung up, colliding with the wolf's stomach and knocking it onto its back. He seized the opportunity, raising the spear high before driving it down with everything he had.

The weapon struck like a bolt of lightning and its aim true, impaling the wolf's chest. The beast let out a horrible, choked whimper, its legs kicking weakly as it struggled against death. Amias gritted his teeth and held firm, pushing the spear deeper, pinning the creature to the wooden floor. His mind went blank. He could barely process what he had just done. His body felt disconnected from the action, as though he were merely watching someone else move through him.

The wolf stopped struggling. Still, just to be sure, he stabbed it once more through the skull. Silence. He had won.

Amias collapsed onto the floor, his breathing heavy, his heart pounding so violently he thought it might burst from his chest. He had survived. Somehow.

"So, I guess I'm a hunter now, huh?" he murmured, exhausted. A tired laugh escaped him. He had done it. He had won. Yet, as he looked at the wolf's still body, guilt gnawed at him. He liked dogs. Killing one even in self-defence left a bitter taste in his mouth. But it had attacked first. He had no choice.

His eyes drifted to the spear. It was beautiful. The pole was crafted from deep red wood, engraved with delicate gold patterns, and the steel tip gleamed even in the dim light.

"The Spear of Legend," he murmured with a wry grin, raising it to admire it. But then another thought hit him: where had it come from? Why was there a spear just lying around here?

He pushed himself up, exploring his surroundings. This floor was different from the one below. No more smooth, reflective marble; this was actual wood. That alone was a relief. Seeing his own reflection everywhere had felt like a cruel joke. Looking at himself… looking at himself had felt like a taunt.

Why did looking at himself feel like a taunt? he wondered, unsure, did he hate himself? "Nah," he said, surely.

Well, whatever. At least that was over with.

Or so he thought.

As he ventured deeper, he found another corridor, one eerily similar to the labyrinth below. He sighed, realizing that he might not be done with seeing his reflection after all. At least now he had a weapon. But more pressing was the matter of his wounds. If they got infected, he was done for.

He needed to find that Ambrosia. Soon.

Until then, he would just have to lick his wounds and hope. He had read somewhere that it helped. He just prayed that was actually true.

Or maybe he'd find Tobi.

But if Tobi had to cauterize his wounds…

Yeah, hell no. He'd take his chances licking them first.